


The One Where Rachel Has Two Epiphanies

by Yellow_Bird_On_Richland



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: F/F, Monica is the Geller that Rachel should have ended up with, Ross is (Jean-Ralphio Saperstein voice) the woooorst, Susan and Carol are supportive Mom Friend lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland/pseuds/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland
Summary: Rachel had once asked her dad, “What if I don’t want to be a shoe?” And while the metaphor was pretty jumbled up, the point was, she didn’t want to be helpless anymore, she didn’t want to be indebted to someone else’s money.So, she should just tell Ross she doesn’t want to be high-school Rachel anymore, right? Hell, she isn’t high school Rachel anymore, she hasn’t been that self-centered and air-headed for years. She still likes to look good, but what girl doesn’t?“I’m more now than I ever was then!” she wants to yell at Ross. She wants to make him realize she’s better now, that she’s grown as a person, that she deserves respect and admiration for her transformation, even if she suffers setbacks sometimes.But Ross probably wouldn’t listen anyway.Not like Monica does.
Relationships: Monica Geller/Rachel Green
Comments: 32
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voltemand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voltemand/gifts).



> Prompt: Things you said under the stars and in the grass.
> 
> Set in a season 6 AU, after Ross and Rachel's Las Vegas disaster and divorce, where Monica and Chandler aren't a thing.
> 
> Total wish fulfillment. Might become a longer piece because I got intrigued by where this mini-fic could go.

"He's been doing it again," Rachel grumbles to Monica. Her irritation at Ross (who is, thankfully, not with them, since he's at some paleontology conference this weekend) sours what's otherwise been a lovely Labor Day spent with Monica, Chandler, and Joey; they're still relaxing in Central Park after their early evening picnic, even though summer is clearly fading into fall and there's patches of stars appearing in the dusky, dark pink sky overhead.

She feels bad for carping to Monica, who's been nothing but supportive of her various iterations of relationships with Ross—friends, lovers, exes, enemies, et cetera—but Rachel's hoping maybe Monica will understand the source of her frustration if she explains it well enough.

"What's Ross up to now, Rach?" Monica asks sympathetically as she sidles up closer to her on their large picnic blanket; Joey had, predictably, made a mess of his section, between dripping mustard stains from his oversized cold-cut sandwich and having his Rocky Road ice cream melting everywhere. He'd definitely cock-blocked Chandler from getting the ice cream girl's number at that nearby stand and hadn't even flirted with her after, and Rachel idly wonders if they'll ever realize why they're so hopeless around women when they're together.

As if on cue, they announce, "We're gonna go talk to those hot chicks," pointing in an all-too-obvious way at the throng of women tossing a frisbee around in the middle of the park.

"Go knock yourselves out, ladykillers," Monica deadpans as they depart before turning back to Rachel. "Sorry, hon. So, what did my brother do this time?"

It's probably only because Ross isn't there to implicitly demand Monica's loyalty through his presence, but Rachel hears a bit of exasperation toward her brother in her voice, and she feels a gratifying twinge of twisted affection toward her best friend for it.

"Last weekend at the party he hosted, he was giving me all these flirty touches and making moon eyes at me," Rachel sighs. "As if we're supposed to get back together just because I'm Rachel and he's Ross."

"Well, that _has_ been your reasoning in the past, sometimes," Monica points out, not unkindly, but Rachel insists, "I'm not interested this time. At all," she defends herself, before conceding, "Though I know I've instigated our fair share of…"

"Shitty, destructive life choices? Dumb hook-ups?" Monica suggests, a touch acidicly, before murmuring, "Those were uncalled for, I'm sorry."

"No, you're totally right, Mon," Rachel asserts. "I've been a catalyst for stupidity, definitely. But every time, I think things are going to be different, that Ross and I are in different places mentally from whenever we were last fucking or dating or circling around each other. And then we end up loathing each other like always and being miserable for about 90% of our relationship's life span."

She frowns and reflects, "And I've grown from my past relationships, like with Joshua or Tag, but with Ross…" she shrugs and sighs dramatically. "We're stuck in perpetual deja vu. We bring out these horrible, base instincts in each other, and the most frustrating part is—" Rachel cuts herself off and apologizes. "Sorry, I know Ross is your brother and I don't mean to just act like he's the worst."

Rachel wants to add, "He's not," as a concession to Monica, but there's a veritable mountain of evidence suggesting otherwise—like refusing to get an annulment for a sham wedding that neither of them meant to partake in, for the most recent example—and the tiny, charitable negation gets lodged in her throat.

A touch of anger flashes across Monica's face, and Rachel's definitely not imagining the hard, bitter edge to her voice when she answers, "Honestly? He kind of _is_ the worst." She starts listing off, "Setting aside all the divorce crap he just put you through, he refused to help Joey with his rent that one time, he lost his mind over Ben playing with Barbies, he's always treated Carol and Susan like garbage because they're," Monica gasps in faux horror and Rachel's cracking up as she exaggeratedly says, " _lesbians_."

Rachel should stop her there, because this is hardly charitable and they're hardly perfect themselves, but righteous indignation looks good, looks _hot_ , honestly, on Monica, with her jaw set firmly and the angles of her face jutting out in razor sharp, defined edges. She's treating her words like bullets, firing them out in short bursts of breath, and it sounds like she's got more to say.

It looks that way, too, based on the stormy tinge of madness in Monica's normally clear blue eyes, and she goes on, "Plus, there's that time he stalked you and Phoebe like a creep to try and prove women can't defend themselves. _And_ Ross followed a student he was dating—which, ew—to Florida to snoop on her during spring break because he's pathetically insecure and never got over Carol realizing she was into women, which has fuck-all to do with him even though he's internalized it that way."

Rachel feels her eyebrows almost disappear into her hairline at that statement—it's pretty much a universally-acknowledged fact at this point, but no one in the group's ever actually mentioned it before, and she appreciates Monica's willingness to speak it into existence. Monica finally ends her rant with, "Not to mention, he got my parents to hate Chandler for a while by lying about them smoking weed in high school, and, oh yeah, who could forget the number he did to my self-esteem from age seven until we left for college?"

A hint of despair edges its way into Monica's tone at the last note, off-setting the exasperation and fury, and Rachel realizes, in that instant, that she's totally done with Ross, because she can't justify dating someone who's hurt her Monica so much over the years.

"I'm sorry, Mon," she murmurs, looping an arm around her.

"It's alright, Rach, really," she replies quietly. "My therapist has helped me realize I owe it to myself to stop letting him hurt me, even if it means we don't have the idealized, happy family sibling relationship our parents generally wanted for us. Plus, family can be the friends you choose," she notes, smiling at Rachel. "And I choose you."

"Aww, Monica," Rachel murmurs affectionately. "I choose you, too."

And as she contemplates applying Monica's idea of releasing Ross to her own life, as she considers letting go of anything remotely resembling a relationship with him, it hits her.

"We've always been so _juvenile_ together," she mutters, talking more to herself than anything. That's hardly an SAT term, but it's the perfect description for their stops and starts, their self-destructive behavior. She glows with pride at finding the right word, and Monica's little half-grin, half-smirk at her jubilation is at least five shades of adorable. If Rachel had to say, she'd put Monica at the center of her friends' collective little universe, as she's the one who's always the most excited for any of their accomplishments and triumphs, no matter how trivial.

"Come again?" Monica asks with a slight frown, prompting her thought process forward.

"It's...that's it," Rachel gasps, amazed she took this long to figure it out; then again, she never did too well in psych. "Ross pictures dating me like we're still in high school, like I should just be arm candy and a status symbol for him."

The wheels in her head keep turning and suddenly snap into place, and Rachel goes on, slowly, "He doesn't want to date me. He still wants to date what I _represented to him_ when we were teenagers. The nerd getting the hot girl. It doesn't matter that I've changed, that I've grown so much since then. He's just objectifying me and using me as a statement—not in a positive light, not like he's proud of me for my accomplishments, but in a possessive 'look at what I've got' way."

Monica points at her repeatedly, unable to quite articulate her thoughts for a second, but Rachel thrills at how they're on the same wavelength when she bursts out, "And that's why he was so fucking pissed when you were working your way up at Bloomingdale's, because he's supposed to be the only thing you need to be happy! You're not supposed to want a _career_ or _find your purpose._ " Monica's words are saturated with sass, dripping from her mouth like the decadent hot fudge she sometimes makes as a treat to top her sinfully chocolate-y brownies a la mode, and Rachel just wants to sink her teeth into her sentiments because she and Monica have finally realized they don't have to put up with this garbage. Not from Ross, not from anyone.

"It's just a load of bullshit!" Rachel triumphantly exclaims in return. She's not sure which one of them leans in again first, but she and Monica are hugging tightly, laughing as they chisel away at the dumbass patriarchy together, and they've each only had one beer, but Rachel feels a warm contentment in her best friend's arms that she usually associates with slight drunkenness.

"What are you two talking about?" Joey and Chandler chorus together.

Rachel and Monica glance at each other, then up at the boys' semi-dopey expressions (they've finally returned from another fruitless flirting quest) and giggle. "What would you say, Rach?" Monica asks softly, turning to look at her.

"I'd say we're deducing why men are so often afraid of self-assured, powerful women," Rachel decides.

Monica slings an arm around her shoulder, presses herself close to Rachel, and adds, "Women like us."

And just like that, the second penny drops, the second epiphany hits. No, that's not right. It barrels over Rachel like an MTA subway train.

Because she's just realized she wants to kiss Monica Geller.


	2. Chapter 2

The realization doesn't shake Rachel to her core the way she expects it to as she turns it over in her head. She's normally given first kiss thoughts with men an air of reverence, awe, and extreme excitement. They are Possibilities, they are Events. But they happen once and then she and whoever she's kissed go on living.

Chalk it up to a hint of maturity gained as Rachel's aged, perhaps, but she just kind of goes, _oh,_ at this particular one. Maybe because she's always appreciated Monica's beauty—hello, sparkling aquamarine eyes, jet-black hair, full, pouty lips, what's not to like? And she has this casual effortlessness to looking good, to making the white Interpol t-shirt and faded blue jeans she's wearing today seem hip when they're decidedly out of fashion.

While she hones in on these details, Rachel zones out of the conversation, content to let Joey and Chandler animatedly describe their flirting failures in their amusing two-man show. She'll happily fade into the background for a beat—it gives her a chance to flick back through her memories to that night she and Monica kissed in front of the boys to win their apartment back.

They hadn't made out, no; she knows their chaste, almost-entirely-close-mouthed kiss had undoubtedly fueled untold numbers of late-night fantasies for Chandler and Joey.

" _But there was that moment when Monica curled her right hand around my waist, when she had her left hand up on my shoulder blade and dug her nails ever so slightly into it,"_ Rachel reminisces. She remembers a sense of possessiveness, recalls Monica drawing her the tiniest bit closer as they kissed, mentally pictures how she'd tilted her head to the side during the final few seconds to more closely mirror an actual, honest-to-God kiss, and the heady rush in her stomach when Monica followed her lead just before the timer buzzed, making them gasp and jump apart.

"Rachel?"

Chandler's voice jolts her out of her daydream.

"Sorry, sorry, what?" she stammers.

"We're heading back now," he repeats.

"Right, yeah, of course," she nods and they all make their way to the nearest bus stop to catch a ride back to their apartments.

**

She tries to get these pesky, intruding thoughts about kissing Monica out of her head over the next couple of weeks.

" _It shouldn't be this difficult,"_ Rachel frets. _"I kissed a couple of girls in college after parties and by a week later, it was like nothing ever happened. Maybe if I spend some more time alone with Monica, it'll reset my brain and things will go back to normal,"_ she decides impulsively.

It's not the most logical reasoning, but what is she, a therapist? And besides, while the two of them _are_ roommates, their apartment is more or less the go-to hangout spot for everyone else, even when both Monica and Rachel are at work. As a result, their alone time is limited to pre-work mornings (Rachel's not an early bird) and late nights (with some exceptions of weekends, Monica's not a night owl), so they often miss each other during those starts and ends to the day, in any event.

That's how she ends up, during one unseasonably warm Saturday morning in October, offering to join Monica on her morning jog.

"You sure you wanna come with me, Rach?" Monica asks, a hint of surprise in her voice. "You're not usually one for running."

Rachel shrugs, going for an air of nonchalance as she pours herself a glass of water. "I figure I'm not getting any younger, so I should start getting into good exercise habits now. Plus I'm not going to want to go outside once it's freezing cold in winter and I might as well take advantage of the nice weather."

Monica scoffs. "Have you looked in a mirror recently? You're just as crazy hot as you were when you first got to the city."

Monica's face turns beet red a second later and Rachel wants to ask where exactly that compliment came from, but she can feel her cheeks burning, too, so she instead drinks her water, nearly sloshes it on herself, and says weakly, "I'm, uh, just gonna go get changed into my workout clothes then, and I'll meet you back out here in a few?"

"Sure," Monica agrees, her eyes darting around, looking at anything but Rachel.

She quickly strips off her pajamas, throws on a plain black tank top, a blue New York Giants hoodie, and gray sweatpants, telling herself, _"Get a grip_ ," even as her mind replays Monica saying that she's "crazy hot."

"You...you look good, too, Mon," Rachel observes quietly as they're getting ready to leave.

"Oh, please," she waves a dismissive hand. "This is, like, the least possible effort I could put into an outfit, even one for jogging." She gestures at her gray, oversized sweatshirt with _Girls!_ emblazoned across the front in maroon cursive, her black leggings, and the black Knicks hat she puts on as they leave the apartment, frowning for a second before she flips it backward, adjusts it, and says happily, "That's better. Ready to go?"

Rachel swallows thickly; she's ridiculously attracted to her best friend while she's decked out in _workout gear_ , for crying out loud. This is something new, something exciting, something terrifying, and her brilliant theory that spending more time alone with Monica would help things revert back to normal has been blown to smithereens.

"Yeah," she nods as Monica locks the door and puts her keys away, and she's pretty sure she's answering the first question—Monica _does_ look better with the hat on backwards—rather than the second.

Rachel knows Monica's been jogging pretty regularly for a while, but thankfully, she goes at a fairly steady pace and adds walking breaks.

"How do you do this every week?" Rachel pants, massaging a stitch in her side after they've jogged, by Monica's estimate, about a half-mile.

"It's just part of my weekend routine now," she shrugs. "Plus, maintaining my figure means I can save money on clothes. And when I was first losing weight, it was nice to get attention from guys for my body, but now…" she pauses to take a sip of water and purses her lips. "I don't care about that as much. Like, can you hold a conversation or make me laugh or show you care about me? Then you can get my interest."

" _I can do all those things,"_ Rachel thinks reflexively before her brain screams, _"What is wrong with you? How are you suddenly_ _crushing_ _on Monica?"_

Answering that will open up a whole can of worms that Rachel's ill-equipped to deal with at the moment, and physical suffering might distract her from the mental gymnastics she's currently engaged in, so she asks Monica, "You good to get back to jogging?" a minute or two sooner than she would otherwise.

Rachel's calves and hamstrings are close to screaming in protest by the time they trot—ok, Monica trots, she trudges—back up the stairs to their apartment, and she's looking forward to enjoying a steaming hot shower and some breakfast when Monica catches her by the wrist and warns, "Just a sec, Rach. You've gotta stretch or you'll feel even worse later on, trust me."

"Ugh, I don't wanna," Rachel whines, but if anyone in the group has her best interests at heart, it's Monica. She joins Monica in the living room, trying not to grimace as she pulls one foot up behind her to flex out her hamstrings, but she can't restrain a shriek as she loses her balance and almost topples over.

"Here," Monica giggles after Rachel had caught herself. "You can balance on me."

Rachel first rests her left hand on Monica's shoulder as she's stretching her right leg, then switches sides to do her left, and she feels much more grounded thanks to her best friend.

"Anything else you suggest?" Rachel grunts as she rolls her head back and cracks her neck.

"I'd say you could finish with a butterfly stretch," Monica answers as she sinks into the pose herself, then adds, "Actually, would you mind pressing forward on my lower back a little, hon?"

"Sure," Rachel responds, a tiny bit nervously; she doesn't really know exactly what she's doing as she kneels behind Monica. "Like...like this?" She gently presses both hands into Monica's back, just below the middle of it.

"Little more pressure, please," Monica directs her, and once Rachel complies, she gives a breathy sigh and murmurs, "That's perfect."

"You good?" Rachel asks softly, and she has no earthly idea why she's almost whispering or why this slice of time feels so intimate or why she's thinking of brushing some of Monica's loose, flyaway hairs back from the sides of her face or…

And then the moment recedes into the rearview mirror as Monica gets up and Rachel's torn in half between being glad it's fading and wanting to chase after it.

**

The next shift happens when Rachel comes home from work and hangs up her coat by the front door, and Monica, who's making buffalo chicken pasta for dinner, stares for a beat after Rachel greets her with a, "Hi, sweetie."

"Do I have a stain on my dress or something?" Rachel worries for a second at the extended, silent eye contact before Monica answers.

"No, no," Monica reassures her, blushing slightly as she comments, "It's just really fashionable and I don't think I've seen it before."

"Oh, this thing?" Rachel's laugh comes out a couple notes higher than usual as she glances down the light blue, long-sleeved skater dress she'd paired with tights and a pair of boots as a chic, semi-casual work outfit. "I got it last weekend when I went thrift shopping with Pheebs."

"Good eye. It suits you," Monica hums as she turns back to the stove to taste the buffalo sauce she's cooking up. "I think this mixture is just about there. Be my guinea pig and taste-test it after you get changed?" she asks Rachel a few seconds before Phoebe comes in.

"Like I'm gonna turn down an offer of your cooking, Monica," Rachel replies breezily. "Sure."

She tries not to grin too widely when she's walking to her bedroom and hears Monica gush to Phoebe, "That dress Rachel picked out when you two went to Goodwill last weekend? It's totally adorable!"

They go back and forth like that for a couple of weeks, constantly trading compliments on everything from fashion to cooking to beating Chandler and Joey at Scrabble, almost like a weird game of tennis. And they've started to sit next to each other on the couch as often as possible when everyone's watching TV together. Rachel enjoys it, but she's not sure how to get even closer to Monica, if she should hit an approach shot or come to the net for a volley. Or if Monica would stop playing in the game if Rachel tried to approach her that way.

" _I wish there could be some sort of helpline for this, like, 1-800-GIRL-CRUSH,"_ Rachel mutters to herself one day. _"But I think I can keep it together until my lunch date with Carol and Susan next weekend and discuss my new feelings with them to gain their perspectives."_

Their mini-tradition of grabbing lunch together around the end of each month—Rachel can't believe it's already almost October—has become a nice little break from the zaniness of her usual gang. She loves them dearly, of course (even Ross has been more tolerable lately), but...they all _do_ spend an almost-unhealthy amount of time together, and it's nice to get out of the bubble for a few hours, to sometimes see Ben, to hear about the little day-trips that Carol and Susan take around the city on weekends.

She makes it through the week and is incredibly grateful that the two of them offered to make french onion soup because this particular NYC fall is turning bitterly cold in a hurry. Rachel's also thrilled she only needs to bring crusty Italian bread as her meal contribution; she's gotten better in the kitchen under Monica's watchful, not-always-patient tutelage, but she'd hardly even call herself an amateur cook at this point.

They catch up, as usual, talking about work and Ben and how he's enjoying school before Rachel says haltingly, "I have sort of a personal question to ask you both. If you don't mind. If it's too intrusive, I—actually, forget I said anything," she mumbles, but Carol and Susan look at her with kindness, if not a little confusion.

"What is it, Rachel?" Carol asks reassuringly, and Susan suggests, "Why don't you go ahead and ask it? We can't know if it's too personal a question if we don't know what the question is."

"Okay, thanks, you two," Rachel answers before steeling herself and posing her thoughts to them. "How did you both know you were attracted to women? Or start coming to that understanding?"

"I was on a date with some random guy that my friend set me up with and I couldn't keep my eyes off this stunning redhead two tables over," Susan asserts. "And I didn't know a thing about her, other than the fact that I thought she was gorgeous and I desperately wanted to talk to her."

Carol comments, "I had something similar happen and it just explained why I'd always felt so ambivalent toward men and why I'd put so much value in female friendships. Because I'd wanted it to be more than that, maybe even subconsciously, for a while, before I really realized what those feelings meant."

Their anecdotes confirm what Rachel's already thought, and she sort of expects Susan to make a sly comment about why she's asked this question, but they give her the time and mental space to sit quietly. After about a minute, though, Rachel thinks, _"They were able to open up to me, so I owe them that, too."_

She starts off slowly, saying, "Your stories sort of track with something I'm feeling for…" she's still a tiny bit scared to speak this into existence, but pushes through it to finish her sentence. "For Monica."

Carol and Susan turn to each other and share matching, tiny, almost imperceptible grins and both offer small nods to Rachel, as if to say, _"Keep going."_

"It started around Labor Day weekend. When did we last get together for lunch, the weekend before that, I think? Anyway," Rachel continues, "the two of us and Chandler and Joey all went on a picnic at Central Park, and the two of them left us for a minute to go flirt with some girls. So I got this chance to talk, or, really, complain to Monica about how Ross had been sort of flirting with me again at this party he'd hosted earlier that weekend," she recounts.

At the invocation of Ross' name, Susan and Carol groan simultaneously.

"I don't mean to tell you what to do," Carol cautions Rachel gently, "but I think you'd be better off to not involve yourself with him again."

"Oh, I totally agree," Rachel reassures her. "And when I realized just how often he's done Monica wrong, it really cemented that decision for me," she continues. "And after that, I kind of got to thinking about how great she is, how lucky I am to have her as my best friend, and I...I realized I wanted to kiss her."

She knows Carol and Susan aren't exactly the sentimental types, but they both respond with a heartfelt "aww" at her last sentence.

"And you said this was around Labor Day? Have your feelings changed since then?" Susan prompts her.

"The urge to kiss her has sort of gone away," Rachel admits, "but we've also been complimenting each other a ton lately. _Way_ more than we ever have before. And I don't know exactly what to do about that."

"In our semi-professional lesbian experience," Susan notes, drawing a laugh from Rachel and an affectionate eye roll from Carol, "it sounds like she's reciprocating your interest. So, why not ask her outright if you could kiss her?"

"I want to, but…" Rachel bites her lip. "I'm scared," she confesses. "Of if Monica says no, or if things get awkward, or if she thinks I'm some sort of freak for being at least kind of into women."

"Well, I invited Susan to join a threesome. Which was really more of a twosome," Carol hedges as her wife cracks up. "Seeing if Monica would be up for one kiss can't be as scary as that, can it?"

"No. No, it can't," Rachel muses.

She's always been good at making snap decisions—hell, she ditched her husband at the altar, which is why she even got reacquainted with Monica at all—but she surprises herself, just the same, when a quiet, clear, confident voice in her head declares, _"I'm going to ask Monica Geller if I can kiss her by the end of next week."_


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel's plan goes a bit awry, mostly because Monica's work schedule goes haywire over the next couple of weeks and it doesn't feel right to spring a rather loaded, potentially stressful proposition on her while she was putting out fires (mostly figurative, but one was literal) left and right at Alessandro's.

Fortunately, things let up for Monica a couple of days before Joey's little get-together; he and Chandler had decided to host a party on Saturday night to celebrate his being cast as Benedick in an off-Broadway production of _Much Ado About Nothing_ and to watch the first Rangers game of the season.

Rachel's having a difficult time committing to an outfit and she's laid out a few different options on the living room couch (sometimes she gets overwhelmed by the amount of options in her closet) when Monica emerges from her bedroom in a simple black, sleeveless dress with a jean jacket over it, paired with a bright, vibrant red lipstick.

Rachel bites the insides of her cheeks to avoid letting out something between a frustrated huff (because Monica looks gorgeous without _trying_ , and dammit, that's not fair) and a gasp (because Monica looks _gorgeous_ without trying, and dammit, that's not fair, either).

"Hey, Rach." She frowns at the out-of-place clothes that have swallowed up the couch. "Having trouble picking out something to wear for Joey's party?"

"How'd you guess?" Rachel deadpans, then groans. "I don't even know why I'm caring so much. If it was just you guys at this shindig I wouldn't be worrying. Be my sounding board for outfits, please?" she pleads.

"Sure," Monica agrees. Rachel holds up her old black and white hounds-tooth dress.

Monica grimaces. "Leave that in the early 90s, babe."

Rachel drops it and holds up her a white lace top. "I'm thinking I could pair this with jeans, but I kind of also want to wear something that shows off my legs."

"Literally anything you pick will do that, Rach. You've got a great figure," Monica replies so easily that Rachel freezes for a second.

"But-I mean, um, you couldn't go wrong with a skirt?" Monica suggests hastily, and Rachel nods too vigorously, like a bobblehead, as she dashes back to her closet to look for something. Anything, really, it doesn't matter, as long as she takes long enough that the deep pink blush in her cheeks recedes.

" _Might as well see what else I've got since my selections on the couch didn't seem too inspiring,"_ Rachel thinks.

After spending a few minutes selecting and discarding possibilities, she opts for a white turtleneck, a black skirt, and tights. It's a simple, clean, timeless look-not unlike Monica's outfit, honestly, she realizes, as she announces, "I think I've got something," and steps out of her bedroom.

Rachel sees Monica's eyes pop the tiniest bit wide as she looks her over, witnesses the definite double-take Monica gives her, and thinks, _"Maybe tonight's the night."_

That feeling only swells as the evening marches toward its starting point-the party-when they cross the hall arm-in-arm. As Rachel goes to rap smartly on the boys' apartment door, she pauses, fist in mid-air, and glances over at Monica, grinning.

Or, more accurately, she _intends_ to only glance over at Monica, but ends up eyeing her up and down. Totally on accident.

"We clean up pretty well, don't we?" Rachel murmurs and maybe she's suffering from an early cold already, because her voice comes out low and throaty.

"Yeah," Monica breathes, nodding a bit dumbly. Her gaze mirrors Rachel's-scanning her face, her neck, her shoulders, her chest, down to her waist, down her legs-and her mouth is the tiniest bit open and-

"C'mon in, you guys don't need to knock or wait. Did you think it was locked?" Chandler asks with a quizzical look as he yanks the door open.

"Sorry, we didn't want to barge in if some of Joey's guests had already arrived," Rachel lies smoothly as Monica hands off the bottle of Founder's Estate Cabernet Sauvignon to Chandler and greets Joey with a hug.

The party progresses the way most of theirs do, even with guests: there's an abundance of food and alcohol, board and card games get reinvented into boozy battles, and they humor Phoebe by letting her play her guitar (today's serenade: a song about one of the hobos who tries to get free rides on the MTA to busk in different parts of the city. It's honestly pretty poignant).

Unfortunately, there's one time-honored party tradition that Rachel can never seem to avoid: namely, Ross flirting with her.

She should feel guilty for being annoyed with him, but honestly, they've done this song and dance so. many. Times. And she's utterly disinterested in partaking in it as he drawls at her and Monica.

"Anyway, I've got a _bonus_ coming up hopefully for my _research_ , and if I can make _tenure-track_ ," Ross chuckles in that smug way he thinks is high-society when really, it makes him sound like an asshole, "then I'll be driving the gravy train to a big _payday_."

Monica raises her wine glass and toasts him ironically. "That's great, Ross. Congratulations."

He adds slowly, completely ignoring his sister, "I'll be rolling in the dough, Rach. Big moula."

Rachel nearly snorts out loud, thinking, _"Ross still doesn't understand me. I don't care that much about money anymore. Especially not when I'm damn good at my job and can pay my own way for most things."_

Then, she replies, piggy-backing off Monica's barb, "May I also say, congratulations. Good for you, pal."

A cartoon-esque frown mars his features at the purely platonic term and Rachel just barely avoids giggling before she figures she's gotten her point across. She softens her voice a bit. "Want another beer, Ross?"

"Sure," he mutters, slumped down in his chair, clearly chastened for once.

"I'll get another drink, too," Monica pipes up and joins Rachel on her short walk to the fridge.

"Thank you, Mon," Rachel whispers, leaning in close to her best friend.

"Course, Rach. What else are girlfriends for, right?" Monica whispers back as she pours herself a glass of wine and tops up Rachel's.

" _What else, indeed?"_ Rachel thinks a touch conspiratorially as she clinks their glasses together.

**

The rest of the night passes uneventfully, and the gang all clears out of Joey and Chandler's place around 11.

"I've gotta say, even though they'll never meet my standards for cleanliness, those two did a nice job making their apartment suitable for a party," Monica comments as she and Rachel retire to their space. "For outside guests, no less."

"Yeah. I think Chandler was smart to turn cleaning into a game for Joe," Rachel notes as she locks the door; Joey's tried to make late-night fridge raids one too many times in the past. Between the taco dip, chocolate chip cookies, and leftover pizza, he should be fine, at least for tonight.

And if Rachel has ulterior motives for wanting to keep her wonderful friends on the other side of her apartment door tonight, well, sue her.

Monica hangs up her jean jacket on the coat rack before asking, "Do you think they'll ever figure out that they're maybe...into each other?"

"I'm not sure," Rachel stammers after a second; this opening seems too obvious, and while Susan and Carol had suggested she be pretty direct in confessing her feelings for Monica, she also feels like trying to segue with, "Hey, speaking of same-sex roommates who are attracted to each other," is a bit too abrupt of a leap.

Instead, Rachel casually remarks, "Speaking of apartments, remember when we nearly had to trade places with them permanently?"

Monica shivers. "Don't remind me. I can't believe the hijinks we went through that day."

"It was something," Rachel agrees, and part of her wants to let the conversation drop here, on safe ground, but the bolder part of her wins out; she _has to_ at least try, has to know if her feelings for Monica have any possibility of being returned. So she asks, "How'd you decide on us kissing for a minute to be the 'break glass in case of emergency' plan, anyway?"

"I-I dunno," Monica laughs and shrugs awkwardly. "They're both kinda pervs and I figured they'd like it a lot and I guessed kissing you would be a guaranteed way we'd get our apartment back." Her eyelashes flutter as she murmurs, "Why do you ask?"

Rachel hits another fork in the road and trips over her words a bit, but gets them out, just the same: "Because I-I think I want to kiss you, Monica."

Monica whispers, "Rachel…" and she's preparing for doom, for awkwardness, for embarrassment, when Monica comments shyly, "I think I'd like that."

Rachel pulls her in for a hug and they brush noses, but not lips, together and giggle breathlessly.

"Sorry, I-I don't know, exactly, how to do this when we're not in a desperate bid to win our apartment back," Rachel jokes. She can't help but interrupt herself with a giddy laugh, and Monica's own peal of laughter echoes over hers because this is a little awkward, sure, but they're stumbling toward whatever this next step of "them" is together, arms still wrapped around one another.

"I was gonna say, maybe kiss me the way you kiss guys but, like-" Monica grimaces at her own thought process.

"Ew," Rachel completes the sentence for her and wrinkles her nose, loving how Monica giggles at that.

"How about," Monica leans in a bit closer as she trails off and then half-suggests, half-demands, in a low, rough voice, "you kiss me the way you've thought about doing it?"

"Ooh, I can work with that," Rachel hums, and she's usually content to let her body talk for her, but inspiration strikes like lightning and she can't possibly pass up this one-liner. So as she slowly tilts her head and leans in toward her best friend, she murmurs, "You're the Geller I should've been chasing all along, Monica."

Monica somehow melts in her arms and pulls Rachel in for their first real kiss at the same time with one hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder blade. It's a callback to their unofficial first kiss, but this one, without an audience, is the one Rachel catalogues as the best she's ever gotten. She curls her fingers through Monica's hair and Monica runs her right hand up her hip, along her spine, to match Rachel's movement.

They stay intertwined, pressed flush against each other as they break off their first kiss with shaky gasps, breathing heavily, heads still tilted at an angle.

"So…" Rachel whispers.

"Yeah," Monica confirms, nodding and gazing down at Rachel's lips with unabashed lust just before they lunge together again. As Rachel and Monica tango their way up against the locked door, transforming their second kiss into their first make out session, Rachel's few still-functioning brain cells record, through the blissful, dazed fog, " _Best. afterparty. ever._ "


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered redeeming Ross at the end, but relentlessly dunking on him is just way more fun.
> 
> Thanks everyone for all the kudos and comments! Hope you enjoy the ending to this little piece.

Rachel learns, within about three weeks and two and a half dates (she and Monica made French toast together at home as a brunch date one weekend), that being in a relationship, of sorts, with her best friend is ridiculously great.

It's freeing, she finds, to go out to a restaurant knowing your date _wants_ to talk to you about your work, about funny stories with your friends, about potential day-trip destinations. For conversations to be an end to themselves rather than a means to try and bed her. Not that she and Monica are pure as snow innocent; the little black wrap dress she'd worn on their last outing to a semi-upscale Italian place hits just above the knee and Monica had been checking out her legs when they left the apartment. And Monica's blue satin blouse had shown off a more-than-healthy amount of cleavage. But unlike in nearly all relationships she's had with guys, Rachel doesn't feel, at all, like Monica expects sex at the end of the night. And their slowly developing relationship consists of more than dates, since they live together. There are sweet domestic moments, too, like how they automatically make coffee for two now, and how they've taken to gently kissing each other goodbye when they're heading out for work at the same time.

Rachel's not sure what, exactly, constitutes their anniversary-the night of their first kiss, or their first date-and she hasn't worked up the courage to ask Monica about it, either. But she wants Monica to know she wants this, wants them, wants her, so she impulsively decides, _"One month from our first kiss. I'll say that's our first anniversary, and we can talk about it from there."_

When the day arrives, she purchases roses from one of the nearby florists, but that gift feels a little too cliché by itself, so she also buys Monica a small silver bracelet from the Bon-Ton near her work at the end of the day.

For a second, as she's on the way up to their apartment, Rachel worries, _"What if I'm making too big a deal of this? What if Monica doesn't really want a true relationship with me?"_

But she remembers their dates, their early mornings and late nights spent together, and how often, in just about one month, Monica's told her, in words, kisses, and deeds, "You make me so happy," and the memories propel her forward.

Monica turns back toward the door as it opens and gasps as she spots the bouquet of roses Rachel's carrying.

"Oh my gosh, Rach, are those for me?"

"No, they're for my other girlfriend," Rachel deadpans after she shuts and locks the door, and Monica greets her with a warm kiss.

"Well, thank you!" Monica gushes as she fills a vase with water. "What's this for?"

"For our one month anniversary." Rachel blushes. "Well, I kind of just decided to make one month after our first kiss our anniversary, but it doesn't have to be today, and we don't have to have one at all if you don't want…"

Monica frowns. "Why wouldn't I want that?"

Rachel shrugs. "It's just, I know we're kind of...not normal. Two women dating. And-"

Monica cuts her off with a kiss that says, "Shut up," and then asks softly, like she doesn't quite get it, "What exact part of 'I'm crazy for you' are you not comprehending yet, Rachel Green?"

"Are you saying that you want to do this, for real?" Rachel squeaks back breathlessly in response to the question. "Like, we're official official girlfriends? Because I want that. I want you, Monica Geller," she whispers, just before leading them to sink into another kiss and she's elated when Monica nods into it.

"Absolutely," Monica confirms, laughing lightly at how Rachel's eyes light up as she says it. "I wanna be able to hold your hand in front of everyone and not have to pretend it's an accident."

And Rachel answers, "I wanna be able to say I'm thankful for you when we go around the table and do that at Thanksgiving, and have everyone know exactly what I mean."

"So we're doing this, then," Monica notes, her tone still a little half-questioning despite her own earlier insistence that she's ready for this step, and Rachel nods solemnly before a grin works its way onto her face. "If the last month is any indication, having you for a girlfriend is gonna be pretty great, Mon," she compliments her.

"Feeling's mutual, Rach," Monica breathes out just before they kiss again. "Oh, and before I forget…" she blushes. "I kinda might have gotten you something for our anniversary, too. I'd thought it was coming up, like, a month after our first date, but I like your anniversary idea better, so lemme go grab it."

"Ok," Rachel smiles at her as she retrieves her other present for Monica from her coat pocket.

Monica comes back out of her bedroom with a long, thin jewelry box, and gives another gasp of surprise when she sees Rachel's got a second gift for her.

"Two presents? In one month?!" she exclaims. "Jeez, I would've made a move on you sooner if I knew you'd treat me like royalty."

Rachel waves away her praise, but still glows at it. "Flowers aren't that big of a deal, and this is just a small thing I picked up," she insists as they trade presents.

"This is so lovely, Monica, thank you!" Rachel whispers as she opens the box-it's a silver necklace with a star pendant.

"Really?" Monica seems a touch surprised by her response. "I know it's not as fancy as some of the jewelry you wear, but," she gives a kind of pleased shrug, "I felt like it was a nice little something to get you."

"It is, definitely!" Rachel reassures her. "Put it on for me?" she requests as she runs her fingers through her hair.

"Of course, here you go." Monica clasps it in the back, then opens her own gift and immediately puts the bracelet on.

"I'm not sure when the actual silver anniversary is, but we got it out of the way early," she comments warmly. "This is wonderful, Rachel."

" _You're_ wonderful," Rachel corrects her, with that soft smile that seems to be permanently glued on her face now when she and Monica are alone.

Their favorite boys interrupt the moment.

"What gives?" Joey complains as he rattles the locked door.

"Their door's been locked a lot more often lately," Chandler observes, and the girls race over to open it before he can consider that fact any more.

"Sorry, sorry. I just saw some flyer warning about the dangers of leaving your apartment open in the city," Rachel invents because, while she and Monica will definitely tell the group about their relationship at some point, leading with "It's locked so my girlfriend and I can kiss in private" doesn't seem like the best way to go.

They make an outline of a plan to tell their friends over the next week or so to get the announcement done before Thanksgiving. The gang kind of blows it up. They're not surprised when it happens, but the way it goes down catches them off-guard.

It's a regular old Friday evening, with everyone huddled in the living room of Rachel and Monica's place, watching a rerun of one of Joey's soaps while they wait for the pizzas to arrive to kick off a low-stakes game of Texas Hold 'Em. Ever since that one hyper-competitive mess of a poker game years ago, they'd all agreed on two rules: no actual gambling, and no playing on empty stomachs.

Phoebe comments to Rachel, who's seated in what's become her usual spot next to Monica, "That's a really nice necklace, Rach. I've seen you with it on a lot lately, more than you usually wear one accessory. Where'd you get it?"

Rachel freezes for a second, and then Chandler gestures to her girlfriend. "I've noticed the same thing with you and that bracelet, Monica. Is it special or something?"

Rachel feels Monica tense up next to her, as well, and she's not sure exactly where to go from here.

She and Monica don't wear the jewelry they'd gifted to each other all the time-the pieces just didn't work with some outfits-but they've taken to wearing them around the apartment when their friends or other company are around more often than not, as a little symbolic way of saying, _"I'm yours."_

Ross and even Joey pick up on the drawn-out pause, a serious oddity whenever anyone asks Rachel anything fashion-related, so she quickly answers Phoebe, "I don't know, actually. My, um, significant other got it for me."

She feels Monica relax a touch as she says, "Same for me. So I guess it is kind of special, Chandler."

Joey chimes in, "You're both dating people? Nice! How're your boyfriends?"

Rachel wills herself to not burst out laughing at the inaccurate assumption as she replies wittily, "They're not like anyone I've dated before. They're kind, and thoughtful, and downright hilarious."

Monica grins at Rachel's clandestine answer, at how they're on the same wavelength, speaking in code, and responds in kind to Joey's question, "I think I can say the same. They're supportive. They make my days better when they're around. I'm happier when I'm with them."

The questions come flying after that, with Chandler wondering, "Are you two seeing anyone we know?" and Phoebe exclaiming, "You should double-date!" and Ross threatening, "If either of these guys hurts you, they'll have to pay."

Rachel glances at Monica for a beat, like, _"Should we finally tell 'em?"_

Monica gives her a tiny nod and then says, "Okay, one thing at a time. First, yeah, you know both the people we're seeing."

"I don't think we can double date, though, logistically," Rachel pipes up, and Monica finishes off the trio of queries by telling her brother, "Ross, you don't need to worry about any guys. At all. Promise." She shoots a grin at her girlfriend and leans in closer to her, and that's all the support Rachel needs to announce, "There aren't any guys, period. Because Monica and I are dating."

"Each other. We've been together for about a month," Monica adds for clarity after a few seconds of stunned silence, then presses a kiss to Rachel's temple for good measure.

Phoebe breaks the quiet first with a happy cry of, "Congratulations!" and Chandler and Joey both say, _"Cool,"_ at the same time, with faraway looks in their eyes.

"No perving when you're around us," Rachel warns them firmly, and Monica threatens them, "We can't stop you from being gross when you're at home. But if you act creepy toward Rachel or me or crack jokes about us or anything, you're getting cut off from dinner and dessert privileges here."

That snaps them back out of their shared, X-rated daydream. "Fair deal," Joey and Chandler agree, then both cheer, "Congrats!"

Everyone turns to look at Ross, who seems to have been transported directly to his personal hell. He asks, slowly, like he still can't believe it, "So you're," pointing at Rachel, "dating MY SISTER?! And _you_ …" he turns his fiery gaze to Monica, looking as if she's somehow betrayed him, "are dating RACHEL?!"

Rachel and Monica roll their eyes in unison, and Monica looks at the rest of them for a second before asking acidicly, "Just to confirm, that _is_ what we said, like, not even a minute ago, right?"

They all nod at her, and Rachel chimes in, victoriously smug and bitingly sarcastic, "See how smart you are, Ross? You caught on right away."

"Look on the bright side," Phoebe consoles him with a chipper tone. "I count two silver linings."

"And what, pray tell, are those, Phoebe?" he shouts, his face curdled up in anguish, like he just bit into the world's most sour lemon.

"Well, first, you've always hated the idea of any guy getting with your little sister, and now you don't have to worry about that," she comments cheerily. "And second, at least this wasn't another Carol situation, since you and Rachel got divorced _before_ she figured out she liked women."

Rachel tries to keep a straight face. Really, she does. But the way Phoebe so casually eviscerated Ross destroys her good intentions in about five seconds. After everyone absorbs her bombshell insults-shared with such pep, too!-there's a massive uproar of laughter. Rachel and Monica are doubled over on the couch, clutching each other for support, and Joey and Chandler are practically crying with gleeful mirth, wiping their eyes a bit. Chandler chortles, "Not another Carol situation," and Joey gasps through a fit of silent laughter, "Man down! Cock-blocked by _his own sister_!"

He looks Ross once over, shakes his head in slight pity, and says, "You gotta write a fuckin book about this stuff, dude."

"I'm...I'm...I'm going home!" Ross yells, then storms out.

"Good riddance," Rachel snorts as the door slams shut, to an emphatic high-five from her favorite girl.

"I mean, the poor guy just got _brutally_ owned," Chandler points out, "so I feel sorta bad for piling on, but…" he poses a question to the room at large. "Is it just me, or does Ross kinda suck? Like, a lot?"

Monica and Rachel turn to each other, recalling how that very sentiment served as the catalyst of their crazy journey to dating, and dissolve into laughter all over again.

They share the whole story with Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe over pizza and poker.

When the night's wrapping up, Rachel thinks of something she's wanted to tell the guys, or at least the slightly less oblivious one, so she calls, "Hey, Chandler? Could I talk to you about something for a sec?"

She sees the way he and his roommate silently negotiate what they'll do, whether Joey should stay or go, before Chandler tells him, "I'll catch up with you in a minute."

"Sure," Joey nods. "Don't worry, I won't lock the door like you two ladies have been doing lately," he winks.

"Get outta here," Monica shoos him, but it's with affection as opposed to any venom.

"What's up, Rachel?" Chandler asks after a few seconds.

She goes in without preamble. "You should tell Joe."

"Tell Joe what?" he mumbles after a too-long pause and a glance away from her.

"We know, sweetie," Monica comforts him with an arm around his shoulders. "We _really_ know," she adds, "given, well, everything that's happened with us over the past month or so."

He slumps down into a kitchen chair with a sigh. "It's just...I think we can both tell there's something more to our friendship than what guy friends normally feel for each other. But I don't know how to bring that up," he admits, shrugging in a bit of a defeated way. "And what if he gets weirded out and we can't even be best friends anymore? I wouldn't want that to happen," he frets.

Rachel flashes back to when she was in Chandler's position, talking to Carol and Susan about her feelings for Monica, her fears, and thinks, _"Maybe I can help."_

"Chandler? Can I offer you a piece of advice for how you might try to start, um, developing something with Joey?" she asks quietly.

He nods. "I'd be open to it."

"Just ask him if you guys can kiss first. It might sound crazy, but…" she grins softly at Monica, then looks back at Chandler. "I got that tip on good authority from Carol and Susan, and it worked out for me. I know it's still scary, but it's not too frightening of a thing to suggest, is it?" she wonders, hoping for a positive response. "Just one kiss?"

"No. I think I can at least try that," he notes, nodding to himself.

"And if it helps," Monica tacks on, "I know, and we all know, Joey wouldn't stop being your best friend over you sharing your feelings for him. He cares about you too much."

"Ok," Chandler nods again, looking a bit more upbeat and determined. "Listen, Rachel, Monica, thanks so much for talking to me about this. I feel a lot better. And congrats again on-" he gestures between them. "You both seemed really happy about something for at least the last couple of weeks, and I think it's clear now what that something was."

"Thanks," they both answer, wearing matching, slightly embarrassed grins.

"That was quite a night," Monica comments as Chandler gives them a little wave just before he retreats into his own apartment.

"You said it," Rachel nods as she catalogues everyone else's whereabouts and realizes she and Monica are totally, blissfully alone for the night, til mid-morning tomorrow, at the absolute earliest. "So, um," she comments smoothly. "I was thinking."

"What's that, hon?" Monica asks.

Rachel steps closer toward her girlfriend. "Well...Ross isn't gonna bother us for a while. Phoebe went back to her own place a while ago. And Joey and Chandler might be occupied tonight," she murmurs, tilting her head and leaning in close to Monica to sort of nuzzle her.

"Yep," Monica nods, clearly a bit puzzled at her listing about everyone else's whereabouts before she catches on and breathes, "Oh. Oh, _yeah._ " Her smile of realization is all wicked edges and she's already tugging at Rachel's shirt and kissing her breathlessly. And Rachel really, truly can't believe how easily she's fallen into someone so tailor-made for her, into someone so good, when she wasn't even looking.


End file.
